


They were roommates || Jamilton

by GrandmasterDisaster



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Being an Asshole, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Cute Alexander Hamilton, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fashion Designer Thomas Jefferson, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Thomas Jefferson, Isolation, Jamilton - Freeform, Literature Student Alexander Hamilton, M/M, Modern Era, One Shot, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Sick Character, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, collage AU, no beta we die like sleep-deprived dumbasses, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrandmasterDisaster/pseuds/GrandmasterDisaster
Summary: “I didn’t know you needed to be drunk to do that.” Jefferson mocked him, but Alexander only laughed under his breath and said.“Yeah, me neither.” He shrugged simply. “And what's your dumbest, drunkest moment?” He pressed the issue.“When I made a victorian dress overnight.” He sighed, and smiled slightly on the memory. “I don’t remember making it at all. All I know is that when I woke up there was a dress on the floor and I had a few photos of James dressed in it.” He said and shook his head. “I’m actually not even sure how I managed to do that… I mean it wasn’t the best project ever, but it wasn’t that bad.”“Oh.” Hamilton raised his eyebrows and drank another sip of water before finishing. “I’d like to see you in that dress.”
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson & Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette
Comments: 21
Kudos: 88





	They were roommates || Jamilton

**Author's Note:**

> And they were RoOMmaTEs

Hamilton felt like he was dying. He found out a few days prior that he had Covid and that he had to be quarantined. At first he didn’t really feel all that bad and he was just angry - especially that isolation meant being closed in his room in college for at least two weeks.

And he shared his room in college with Thomas goddamn Jefferson.

He met him during his first year in college, in the debate club led by Headmaster Washington. The two of them started hating each other right away and would find every possible reason to fight, make awful remarks about one another or talk about how they hated each other to other people. 

Hamilton sometimes didn’t even know what Jefferson was doing in the debate club anyway, after all he was a fashion design student - what Alexander always remembered to mention during their heated debates - but most of the time he just assumed that he came there because of his friend from political science, James Madison.

Anyway, the two of them could not be in the same room for longer than a few minutes before starting to fight. At least that is how it was until in Alexander's second year they were assigned the same room.

At first they both tried to change it, but it soon became clear that it would be a hard and long procedure so they finally resigned and had to learn how to coexist in peace instead. 

It was hard in the beginning, but soon they started to accept each other and even during the debates they were more respectful and generally more willing to listen to another’s opinion. Of course it later didn’t stop them from denying everything they just heard, but it was some sort of improvement.

However they still were mostly just trying to act as if the other one wasn’t there in their free time and it mostly wasn’t that hard - of course unless Jefferson was using his sewing machine or Alexander decided to write something in the middle of the night.

It was like that until Hmailton got sick. Really sick.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t breathe, but his head… oh his head was hurting so much. Besides he couldn’t taste or smell anything so he totally lost his appetite and he couldn’t fall asleep or focus on more than one thing at once.

And besides that Jefferson wasn’t much help either, especially in the beginning. All he was doing was sewing - from which Alexander’s head hurt even more - looking at his materials and trying to decide between pink, pink and dark pink or making some notes. He even refused to bring him a glass of water, though later he did make him a chinese soup, while preparing one for himself, so it wasn’t that bad.

The worst part was actually the fact that while Alexander kept observing as Thomas was working he felt frustrated that he couldn’t do anything himself and that made him bored, but also annoyed. Above that he was tired and just… wanted it all to end.

So from time to time he would just say random things to Jefferson, sometimes to irritate him and sometimes to make him rant about something, just so Hamilton could stop feeling so bored. Sometimes he would also ask him to give him something, but that was rather rare.

“So, Jefferson, how does it come that you and Laf are friends?” Alexander muttered one evening, seeing as Jefferson was just taking his sewing machine from under his bed. And Hamilton hated that thing, especially when he was sick.

He would literally get out miles off his way just to stop Jefferson from using it. At one occasion, at the beginning of him and Thomas living together, he went as far as taking the damned thing into the bathroom and closing himself in there with it. He sat there for half an hour, up until Jefferson threatened to destroy Alexander’s laptop unless he got out.

Hamilton didn’t actually think that Thomas would do that, but - just to be safe - he gave him the sewing machine back.

The southerner frowned, confused and turned around from his bed to look closer at Hamilton.

“Why do you ask?” He cleared his throat, straightening up a bit. “We are literally cousins.” He remarked, to which the shorter man only shrugged and answered with a smile that might have seemed kind of drunk.

“Well, I mean I hate my cousin.” He admitted with a straight face and then added. “I just wonder, ya know...” He took a deep breath and Jefferson only shook his head, because no. He didn’t know. “Cause like you don’t seem to have many friends and…”

“Seriously?” The southerner took a deep breath, interrupting his roommate. “I’m not sure whether you’re actually sick or just pretend that you are, so you can offend me.” He admitted and then Hamilton rolled his eyes so visibly that Jefferson almost heard it.

“I had a test, Jefferson.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Besides, you did not answer my question.” He remarked confidently, on which the other man only shook his head and for a moment didn’t say anything.

As the silence prolonged Hamilton thought that the southerner was just wondering how to answer, but then when he heard a specific sound of the sewing machine being taken from under Jefferson’s bed he quickly turned on his side to look closer at his roommate and said.

“Now, seriously?” He asked and when Jefferson only shrugged, he growled something under his breath and said after a moment. “Please, my head feels like it’s burning.” He explained, on which the other man only looked up at the ceiling with an expression like he wanted to say ‘oh God please forgive me if I kill him’.

Alexander knew that face very well. It was exactly the same when Jefferson told him that John was waiting for him at the corridor, just so the southerner could close himself in the dorm room and not let Hamilton in through the entire evening.

Of course, it was in revenge for that sewing machine incident and as much as Alexander was furious back then, it was what directly led to the two of them making a deal about at least trying to tolerate each other.

“I have a lot of things to do, heaven knows how much longer it’s gonna last.” He shook his head quickly and, gesturing at Alexander, added. “I mean you could die tomorrow for all we know and I would be way behind with everything and you would be dead either way.” He explained, on what Hamilton snorted under his breath.

“Are you sure you aren’t the one who’s sick?” He asked, his voice probably meant to be mocking. “Sick on ‘I hate everyone on this planet’ plague?” He added and laughed to himself, feeling too tired to care what the other man would think.

Jefferson shook his head and, sitting down on his bed and for a moment giving in to the conversation, said.

“You act like a five year old.” He decided. “You should go to sleep.” He cleared his throat and meant to add something else, but before he could, Hamilton cut in.

“For you to wake me up with your sewing machine?” Alexander snorted again. “Oh no, you won’t outsmart me like that.” He rolled himself on his back once again. “Do I look like Burr, I don’t think I do, so you can’t outsmart me.”

Jefferson, though he did find that comparison slightly, if not highly, weird, smiled and with a fake-wondering tone, said.

“I mean if someone was to shave your head then maybe I would be able to spot a few similarities between you and…” But before he could finish, Hamilton took his pillow and - with a surprisingly little force - threw it at Jefferson.

He missed however and the pillow landed at Thomas’s feet rather than in his face.

“Don’t.” Hamilton groaned and put one of his palms on his own forehead. For a moment the two of them were silent again, but when Thomas got up from his bed to get his sewing machine ready, Hamilton immediately spoke again. “Is your mattress also that uncomfortable?” He threw and Jefferson rolled his eyes.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” He remarked and, stepping closer to Hamilton to make sure that the other man saw his face clearly, said. “And you can’t outsmart me.” He added with a sly smile, on which Alexander groaned.

“Come on, there must be something you can do besides sewing.” He said and Thomas pursued his lips.

For a moment the two of them were completely silent, but finally Jefferson answered with only a slight amount of aversion in his voice.

“If you stop talking I might make some notes from fashion history instead.” He offered slowly, on which Hamilton raised his eyebrows and nodded, though he looked kinda like he was still processing what he just heard.

Cause, actually he could barely focus on what he just heard, but he was good at pretending that he knew or heard something even if he didn’t.

He actually wrote a few ten page essays on the books he didn’t read, but somehow managed to convince his teachers that he did. That was simply what he needed to do to survive on English literature in college, so that was what he did.

“But no sewing machine?” He muttered and Jefferson shook his head with impatience, but answered.

“For today.” He clarified and Hamilton only shrugged, turning on his other side. He knew since the beginning that Jefferson won’t be too eager to agree so he had to be pleased with whatever he was given.

It was actually almost a courtesy from his side, cause Thomas almost never agreed to stop sewing, cause, as he kept explaining, sewing was for him kind of like writing to Hamilton and Alexander should be happy that he didn’t do it in the middle of the night, like some other people did with their work.

Anyways, Hamilton was glad enough with what he was given and though he did know that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep either way, he could at least try to, now.

Jefferson, on the other hand, sighed and, as Alexander judged after his footsteps, sat back on his bed and actually turned on his laptop to make the notes.

***  
Thomas actually didn’t need to sew anything right away, though it would certainly be better if he did, but he actually took a kind of pleasure in discussing and bargaining with Hamilton. And while he did find it weird, he sometimes couldn’t stop himself from disagreeing with the other man just for sake of debate.

So he actually did make some notes from fashion history that evening - and he hated those lessons, particularly because of the teacher, Mr Massiv - and went to sleep early, just to set himself free from this subject.

The next day passed him calmly on bringing some water to Hamilton - who seemed to feel even worse than the day before. Another thing that he did was sewing clothes - this time he did not let his roommate convince him to let that go - for one of his project. He also managed to finally decide on the main color that he was going to chose for his next project - he did have a big dilemma between fuscia, magenta and burgundy.

However, the day after that, Hamilton seemed to feel so bad that he actually stopped to even try talking to Thomas and he was just laying on his bed without motion.

At first, Jefferson tried to ignore it - he thought that maybe the other man was simply sleeping or resting, even though he hardly ever saw him motionless - even in his sleep. But when about two hours had passed and he heard a muted groan coming from Hamilton’s side a few times, he finally decided that it wasn’t probably okay.

So, taking himself together, Thomas sighed and got up from his bed, making his way toward Hamilton. At first he just looked at him with uncertainty, but then, he finally took a deep breath and asked silently.

“Do you need anything?” He wanted to know, trying to make his voice sound reasonable and neutral. He actually felt really uncertain and hesitant about helping Hamilton. 

After all, the two of them weren’t much of… friends. But he didn’t think they were still enemies either and even if they were he’d hate to have problems if Alexander had died, because he didn’t help him.

Hamilton mumbled something under his breath and Jefferson sighed deeply, not understanding a word.

“Hamilton?” He repeated and as the other man didn’t answer, Jefferson leaned in slightly to see his face better. The other man seemed to be actually sleeping - which seemed odd, cause just yesterday he complained that he barely has been able to even as much as take a nap since he got sick. 

So just in case, he asked one more time, before letting him rest in peace. 

“Alexander?” He asked, not even really realising that he has used Hamilton’s name instead of his surname, as he always did.

For a moment longer Alexander didn’t move, so Thomas already stepped away, deciding that he probably was asleep after all, but just then Hamilton opened his eyes and turned around looking straight at Jefferson.

“Oh, that’s only you.” He sighed out silently with a voice that sounded oddly relieved.

Jefferson raised his eyebrows hardly expecting that sort of reaction, but only asked.

“I wanted to know if you need anything.” He said and then added quickly, not letting Alexander think that he cared too much. Because he didn’t, he just didn’t want to have blood on his hands. “You know, like calling an ambulance so they can take you away?” He suggested, but not as mockingly as he once used to.

Hamilton only shook his head, looking like he didn’t fully understand what he just heard and answered after a few seconds of silence too long.

“I thought you were Burr.” He explained. “So I was pretending to be asleep.” He added like it was obvious and Thomas frowned, confused.

“Why would Burr be here?” He shook his head, truly wondering whether he should call the doctor.

“To… you know shave me bald.” He nodded his head, like he was confirming his own words and Thomas took a closer look at him. Hamilton was kind of pale and he had bags under his eyes, but besides that he didn’t look much out of the ordinary, so Jefferson decided to stop himself from starting an alarm, just yet.

“No one is shaving you bald.” He promised and his words sounded almost caring and Alexander smiled at Jefferson with a smile that reminded the southerner about a little puppy.

“Ah, really?” He asked and turned to his other side, in the way now, Jefferson wasn’t able to see his face. “Would you stop them?” He mumbled and Thomas only sighed with resignation, thinking that he probably should measure Alexander’s temperature, just in case.

“Of course.” He said slowly and then, after a moment of silence, added. “I’m gonna bring you some water.” He declared and as Hamilton didn’t answer, he decided that it’s not gonna hurt if he gave him the water anyways and came to the counter top to pour it into a glass.

Meanwhile, Hamilton decided to sit up and, looking at Jefferson with a kind of foggy expression, said, completely out of nowhere.

“What is your drunkest dumbest moment?” He asked and Jefferson glanced at him over his shoulder, accidentally spilling a bit of the water. Then, only when he put the bottle down and wiped the water off, he answered.

“I don’t get drunk.” He said, though both of them knew very well that it wasn’t true. Thomas, however, decided that it would be better if he kept that kind of facts to himself, as he knew everything he said could and would be used against him. 

“Yeaahsss, you dooo.” Muttered Hamilton and when Jefferson delicately gave him the glass of water he said. “Thanks, that was oddly nice of you.”

On which Thomas raised his eyebrows, a little bit confused, but also not feeling entirely bad about what he heard.

It was clear Alexander wasn’t exactly himself and yet there was something about him that made Jefferson think that Hamilton was cute.

No homo, but he was cute. Like in a... ehm… well, Thomas couldn’t really find a compression but it’s not like he would ever consider Hamilton cute in that way.

“I know.” He answered finally and moved back to his bed, slowly sitting down on it. “And how about you go first?” He asked, a sly smile appearing slowly on his lips.

At first Alexander frowned, not really understanding what the other man meant. But after a moment he finally caught onto that and answered.

“Oh, my drunkest moment?” He asked and when Thomas nodded, he took a sip of his water and said. “When I jumped on the table in the bar and started saying something about revolution… I don’t really remember that though. Lafayette, John and Hercules told me later.” He explained and glanced awaitingly at Thomas, who snorted slightly.

“I didn’t know you needed to be drunk to do that.” He mocked him, but Alexander only laughed under his breath and said.

“Yeah, me neither.” He shrugged simply. “That’s why I believed them when they told me.” He explained and then added, after taking a long sip of water. “And what about you?” He pressed the issue.

Thomas shook his head and for a moment considered changing the topic by saying something along the lines of “I need to go to the bathroom” but he finally changed his mind and answered instead.

“When I made a victorian dress overnight.” He sighed, and smiled slightly on the memory. “I don’t remember making it at all. All I know is that when I woke up there was an aggressively green dress on the floor and I had a few photos of me and James making it and then him dressed in it.” He said and shook his head. “I’m actually not even sure how I managed to do that… I mean it wasn’t the best project ever, but it wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh.” Hamilton raised his eyebrows and drank another sip of water before finishing. “I’d like to see you in a dress.” 

***

The few days during which Hamilton was sick seemed like eternity, but luckily on a fifth day he actually started to get better and he could feel his taste and smell return a bit. His head also stopped to hurt that much, so he even tried to read some Macbeth - it was assigned to him at one of his classes - but he quickly gave up, feeling as his headache would return immediately with full force if he read more than two pages at once.

So he just continued to lay on his bed and he even managed to get some sleep - what actually was a relief, cause he couldn’t fall asleep almost at all during those few days. 

He was actually napping for a while and he felt actually really relaxed, but he woke up at the sound of the kettle.

He opened his eyes with tiredness and spotted Jefferson standing next to the counter top. He frowned and, kind of irritated, asked.

“What are you doing?” He muttered with a sleepy tone and the taller man glanced at him for a second before turning back to whatever he was doing and saying.

“Tea, you want some?” He suggested and Hamilton sat up, violently.

Did Thomas Jefferson, the monster Thomas Jefferson, Thomas the annoying bastard Jefferson just asked him if he wanted some tea?

He did recall him making sure he was okay when he was sick, but that was different, cause he was… well, sick. 

Hamilton shook his head in shock.

“What?” He asked surprised, on which the other man glanced at him again.

“Well, I have some water left and…” But just as he was about to finish he blinked a few times just like he realised something and he paused for a moment. Then he swallowed and said something else than he meant to say entirely. “...the only other alternative is to pour it on your head so… yeah. I’m sure you’d hate that.” He said, but his voice was far from mocking.

Alexander didn’t know how to react so he just stayed silent.

“Besides what else did you think I could be doing?” Jefferson huffed and his tone was ironic, but his whole posture suggested that he felt rather uneasy. “It’s not like I would ever make, I don’t know, sausages in the kettle, I have some standards.” He finished and swallowed turning back around.

Meanwhile, Hamilton was just sitting there, still trying to figure out what to say. Did that mean that Jefferson wanted to poison his tea? Or that he accidentally was nice to him and now he wanted to take that back?

“You want that tea or not?” Asked the southerner suddenly and Hamilton raised his eyebrows, but only answered quickly.

“Yeah, yeah, ehm… sure.” He said and added after a moment of awkward silence. “I mean unless you plan to poison it, then maybe I’ll refuse.”

Jefferson glanced at him again, his normal confidence back and said with a sly smile.

“Well, I’m not that dumb.” He stated. “We are in isolation, if you die I’m the only suspect.” He said and Hamilton, unwillingly, had to give him that.

“I suppose.” He said and sighed deeply. He was going to drink a tea made by Thomas Jefferson. Twenty twenty was truly a weird year.

But, at any rate,he decided that maybe, even if he couldn’t read Macbeth, he would be able to do something else. So, waiting for the tea to be made, he took his laptop from the floor, plugged it in and turned it on. With any luck he would be able to finally finish the paper from philosophy that was due the next day and that he would finish twice already if he hadn’t been sick.

He took a deep breath and from time to time kept glancing at Jefferson, who from time to time was glancing at him, and started writing. It was going rather smoothly at the beginning. He already had all the research done, all that was left to do was write it down nicely and check for eventual mistakes. 

Thomas finished making the tea relatively quickly and put it on Alexander’s nightstand, on which the shorter man nodded his head shortly. Jefferson then started to draw some lines on one of his pink fabrics, on which Hamitlon didn’t look at all, too focused on his paper to do so.

Well except that he only wished that he was too focused on his paper to do so, cause really, what Thomas was doing became a weird distraction and Hamilton finally stopped typing at all just to look at the precise movements and confident smile that Jefferson had glued on his face. For a moment Alexander was just staring, until finally, Thomas looked up and saw that he was, indeed, staring.

“What now, Hamilton, am I breathing too loud?” Asked the southerner and Alexander cleared his throat with bewilderment. 

Oh, he didn’t really pay attention to the breathing, what interested him more was how easy doing whatever Thomas was doing seemed. So easy and yet so complicated, actually.

“Well, you could turn it down a notch.” Answered Hamilton, but he could tell after seeing Thomas’s reaction to his words, that his tone wasn’t quite as malicious as it usually was.

“For that you would have to kill me.” Mocked him Jefferson. “And we already established how dumb would that be in our current situation.” He commented. Hamilton only raised his eyebrows on that, grabbed his tea from the nightstand and took a sip.

For a moment they both were gazing at each other, while pretending to be doing something else - Thomas measuring his materials, or whatever and Alexander looking through his paper.

Finally though, Hamilton sighed deeply and, deciding that he couldn’t focus after all, scrolled up to the argument that he was given on his paper and read it out loud.

“What do you think about ‘The modern applications of idealism’?” He wanted to know and Thomas immediately stopped what he was doing to look at Hamilton with a confused stare.

“You ask me?” He wanted to know. “You want to get into a fight, don’t ya?” He asked and Hamilton only shrugged, though there was a devious shine in his eye.

“I just like making you angry.” He explained, on which Jefferson huffed and rolled his eyes. 

For a moment the two of them were silent. Hamilton only sipped his tea and Thomas kept rolling a marking pencil in his hand.

Then, however, Thomas finally put the pencil down and moving his fabric away, said.

“Now, I’m not a literature student.” He started, on which Hamilton snorted mockingly.

“Obviously.” He commented, but Thomas only rolled his eyes.

“But.” He remarked firmly. “I think idealism is bullshit.” He finished on which Alexander opened his mouth widely.

“Come on, you can’t be serious.” He shook his head. “You can’t joke when I ask you a major question, Jefferson.” He stated, waiting for the southerner to get angry. Cause actually, Thomas was indeed right.

Alexander loved to make him angry.

However, to his disappointment, the other man only laughed slightly and said.

“Oh I’m not joking. It’s just that I really don’t see how it applies to modern… or to ancient, actually, reality.” He said. “Actually I could criticize philosophy as a whole, because look. I mean most people…” But before he got to finish, Hamilton interrupted him.

“Oh, don’t even... Jefferson.” He said, forgetting that it was supposed to be just for fun. “If not for philosophy you wouldn’t have like half the things you have today, for example…”

“Half the names in literature?” He asked with irony, but still seemed pretty calm. “Oh no, how would we survive that?” He mocked Hamilton, on which the Caribbean snorted and said.

“Really, you are such a moron I don’t even have words for that.” He rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. “And you know, I’m rarely speechless, but wow, you managed to make me unable to say anything sensible right now.” He mocked and only after a significant moment of silence did he look at Jefferson once again.

And, to his surprise the southerner was looking at him with an uneasy gaze, which made Hamilton feel shivers going down his spine.

He looked like he was… hurt. No. No, he couldn’t be. Why would Jefferson be hurt by something that Alexander has said? It was impossible, so maybe he remembered something unpleasant… or…?

Hamilton shook his head and for a moment didn’t say anything. Finally though, he sighed, and, feeling weirdly guilty… well, no. Not guilty, that was a big word to use for a feeling he had because of something he said to Thomas Jefferson, but… He didn’t feel very good with what he said, so he muttered.

“Jeez, sorry Jefferson I didn’t mean it.” He scratched the back of his head, feeling a tiny bit embarrassed, especially with the perspective of how… well, not-rude was Jefferson to him during the last few days, but the other man only snorted and said.

“Of course you didn’t, Hamilton.” And after that took the pencil back to his hand and with an almost unnaturally indifferent expression, came back to work.

***

The next week passed by slowly. The isolation soon ended and both Alexander and Thomas felt a wave of relief when it did. Now, finally, they were both free to start avoiding each other again and live their lives normally.

Not that Thomas was one hundred percent happy about this. For some reason he kind of missed Hamilton’s company, even if they mostly didn’t talk to each other. 

Especially after the last discussion, but… well, whatever.

Now that they both were free again Thomas and Alexander barely saw each other. They weren’t also as malicious as normally, they just avoided each other as much as possible and if they couldn’t they just... co-existed in mutual ignorance and with occasional glances threw at one another.

Thomas actually even wanted to start a conversation with Alexander once or twice, but then he remembered what the other man said the last time they discussed and… Eh. He didn’t know why, but he felt weirdly afflicted by what Hamilton said then. It’s not like he wasn’t used to insults from the side of his roommate, it was just that he was convinced that this time the discussion was a joke and… let’s just say that if Hamilton insulted him like that as a joke, he really did have to hate him.

And for some reason Thomas didn’t feel very comfortable with that thought.

Besides he had a lot of work to do. And he meant a lot. Becasue of Hamilton’s sickness - fuck him - he didn’t finish his first project as quickly as he meant to and he had the other one that he also had to finish really quickly and he also needed to write a commentary on both of them and then learn it and… crap. It was a lot.

So he decided that he could rest later, after he was done and sat to work, first thing, Saturday morning. He started at eight in the morning, waking Hamilton up and making an extra effort to ignore his complaints, began to sew. 

It went smoothly for quite a while, until the needle got stuck and he had to correct it and fix it, which actually took him quite a moment, especially that he was all shaken up from the constant feeling that he was running late.

He didn’t even notice when Hamilton left the room right after breakfast and left him alone for a few upcoming hours, which normally made him happy - it let him turn on the music and just sit there and relax - but this time he completely forgot about that.

That way or another he managed to get done with sewing in the day - what he was impressed by, cause it really was a lot of work and about five in the evening decided to finally rest, which - unintentionally, cause unintentionally, but still - meant going to sleep before Hamilton even came back to their room.

Then, the next morning, Thomas woke up around nine and immediately got mad at himself for wasting time. He quickly took a shower and started making concepts and writing what he needed to say on his presentation of his projects to later memorise it.

He was doing that for over half a day and once again hardly even noticed when Hamilton left. After being done with concept however, he quickly turned on his sewing machine again to add a few things to his project. And, at this point, he felt like he was going to bump his head on the wall unless he took a break, but he kept working. 

Around five in the afternoon, Hamilton came back and, noticing as Thomas was still working, commented.

“Have you ever stopped doing… that?” He asked and Thomas only shook his head, bearly noticing the words of his roommate.

For a moment it seemed that Alexander was going to push it, but then, finally, he just shrugged and sat on his bed with a sigh, taking a book to his hands.

Thomas just ignored that and kept working, but...

He just felt more and more sleepy with every passing second and a few times fucked up the stitch and had to seam ripp it, what made him even more frustrated.

Finally, after the fifth time it happened and yet another bunch of swears, followed by sitting heavily on the chair and a desperate attempt not to give up, he suddenly heard Hamilton’s voice coming to him like through the mist.

“You really should take a break, ya know?” Decided the shorter man with “Macbeth” in his hand. “The last time I worked for the whole…” He glanced at the big watch on the wall. “...twelve hours straight I made a few really dumb decisions.” He said, but Jefferson only shook his head.

“I have to finish that.” He muttered under his breath as he desperately tried to fix the stitch. For a moment Hamilton was just looking at him and not saying a word, but then he finally snorted and remembering that Jefferson also took care of him not so long ago, put the book down on his bed and said.

“Come on, it’s already good, I really don’t think you have to…” But before he got to finish Thomas turned the sewing machine on once again and started to continue his project.

Hamilton rolled his eyes and crossed his hands on his chest.

“Seriously?” He asked loudly in an attempt to be heard over the sounds of the sewing machine. “Very mature of you, Thomas.” He remarked, but was ignored, so he finally gave up and came back to his bed although he could hardly focus on reading, because he kept glancing at Jefferson and his visible struggles with the fabric.

He kind of felt like he should stop him from working so much, but then, well… they still were… enemies? Not-friends?

Alexander really didn’t know anymore, so he just sighed and shook his head coming back to reading Macbeth. 

But then he closed it again.

Fuck Macbeth. He could not focus anymore, not over the sounds of the sewing machine and not when he saw how Thomas… Did he just call him Thomas?

Wait, didn’t he just call him Thomas to his face… well, to his back a few minutes ago? Oh, it really was getting bad. Though there still was a slim chance that the other man didn’t even hear that through all that sewing.

But just then, Jefferson finally turned the machine off and Hamilton took a deep breath, happy to finally ‘hear’ silence again.

The other man quickly cleaned up the mess and put everything in order for his project the next morning before going to the bathroom and coming back straight to his bed.

Alexander sighed out a sigh of relief, happy that he wouldn’t have to listen to the sewing machine until late at night… or maybe happy that Jefferson wasn’t going to work himself to death?

He wasn’t even sure anymore, but nevertheless he took Macbeth again and came back to reading.

The time was passing by slowly as Alexander read and made notes and then read again and made more notes. Through all this time however, Thomas seemed to have a hard time falling asleep and when the second hour of his tries had passed by, Alexander finally couldn’t stand the other man throwing himself from one side of the bed to another, so he put his book on his lap and said, before he could change his mind.

“I could read to you.” He suggested before really realising what exactly did that mean and what was that supposed to be.

Did he just offer… oh, scratch that. He didn’t even care anymore.

Thomas sat up on the bed glancing at Hamilton with visible surprise in his expression.

“Read?” He asked slowly with a hoarse voice. “To me?” He made sure and Alex shrugged, stopping himself from saying ‘who else did you think I asked that?’ just in time.

“Yeah.” He answered simply, not bothering with explanation as he probably wouldn’t be able to come up with anything sensible anyway. 

For a moment Thomas was just looking his way but then, he finally nodded his head and muttered under his breath.

“Can I…” He started and then cleared his throat making a short pause. Hamilton raised his eyebrows as he wanted to show him to continue and Thomas finally finished. “Can I sit next to you?” He asked and then added quickly. “You know to… ehm, hear better.” He explained.

Hamilton nodded his head and blinked a few times before answering.

“To hear better.” He repeated blankly. “Sure, yeah… ehm, go ahead.” He encouraged Thomas, who also nodded and slowly got up from his bed, taking his blanket along with him. 

He made himself a place with a safe distance of half a meter… or maybe it wasn’t that safe? Hamilton wasn’t so sure, actually.

Anyway, he sat down and leaned on the wall behind him, sitting in the similar position as Alex was sitting in. 

Hamilton took a deep breath and was just about to start reading, when suddenly he realised something. How Thomas wanted to fall asleep while sitting?

Maybe it was a dumb question, maybe he shouldn’t be bothered by that, but for some reason he really wanted to help Jefferson fall asleep to be able to get a good mark on the project next day.

So he cleared his throat and with as much confidence as he could gather - which was not a lot, in this case - proposed.

“You may want to...” He started. “You may want to lay down.” He squeezed out silently and Thomas looked at him slightly confused. 

“But there’s like…” He gazed meaningfully at Hamilton sitting at the verge of the relatively narrow bed and then back at the face of his roommate.

“Oh, eh…” Alexander scratched the back of his head, kind of embarrassed and just said what came first to his mind. “You can use me as a pillow.” He threw out and then, once he realised how it sounded like, added. “I mean only if you want to, just you know, so you can be comfortable, cause the project tomorrow and… stuff.” He mumbled out and Jefferson only stared at him for a longer while.

Only after about what felt like hours, he said.

“Sure.” He answered really quietly and before Hamilton knew it, he slowly laid down putting his head on Hamilton’s lap.

Alexander took a deep breath feeling his heart warming up and took the book into his hands again, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest and the way Thomas was leaning on him and… no. Just…

Macbeth.

Hamilton cleared his throat and started reading.

“Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?” He read with a silent, steady voice, trying to make himself sound like one of those super boring teachers that made you wanna fall asleep after a minute of talking. “Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible. To feel as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?” He finished a fragment and glanced down at Thomas, his eyes half closed, but his body still kind of tensed.

Hamilton cleared his throat and continued reading. He read through a dialogue, after dialogue, monologue after monologue, slowly giving in to the atmosphere of the book and becoming more relaxed himself. 

From time to time he glanced down on Thomas, who after a few minutes also seemed to become more relaxed and soon Hamilton wasn’t even sure if he was still conscious or did he fall asleep.

But he kept reading and he didn’t even notice when his hand found its way to caress Thomas’s curly, fluffy hair. They felt so nice and soft and Alexander didn’t even realise that he needed to know how they felt until he actually touched them. 

Soon, he finished reading, put the book away and moved his whole attention to Thomas’s body curled up on his bed.

Now Alexander was absolutely certain that the other man was asleep. He had to be or otherwise he wouldn’t look so peaceful and relaxed.

Hamilton sighed. It was weird how one person could look so different depending on how you felt about them.

For example now, Alex felt very good about Thomas. 

Especially about his soft, fluffy hair that he caressed from time to time. And about how cute he looked curled on his lap and how relaxed Alexander started to feel himself after a few minutes.

He knew he should move away and maybe either go to sleep on Thomas’s bed or transport Jefferson to his bed… but it was just so comfortable and safe. And Thomas himself looked so peaceful and Alex just didn’t have a heart to wake him up.

So he slowly let his eyelids close and his hand rest on Thomas’s head and before he knew it he drifted away falling asleep himself.

***

Thomas sat up violently when he heard a sound of his alarm clock going off and he almost hit Hamilton who was laying right beside him with his elbow. 

He blinked a few times trying to remember how he found himself in this position and only then did he remember falling asleep on Alexander’s lap as the other man was slowly stroking his hair.

Thomas felt his cheeks going red and then he glanced at Alexander who was laying half on him and half next to him, deciding that they had to move while sleeping.

The southerner quickly got up from the bed and turned off the alarm, glancing at Hamilton in sudden, unexpected fear of waking him up.

But, luckily, the Caribbean had a deep sleep. Actually, the only thing that seemed to be able to wake him up in the morning was the sewing machine, which was kind of ironic. 

Thomas snorted to himself at that realisation and quickly took the clothes that he prepared for himself the previous day. He put them on as quietly as he could and directed his steps to the bathroom. Before he went in, however, he took one last glance at the room and at Hamilton laying down on the bed.

He never really noticed that before, but his body seemed so… cuddly. Like he was made to hug him and Thomas felt a weird urge to come back to bed and pretend that he was still asleep, just to be next to Hamilton a bit more.

But then he glanced at the clock and quickly changed his mind. He really needed to make his project work, so he took a deep breath and closed himself in the bathroom to get ready for the rest of the day.

***

A few days have passed by and neither Alexander nor Thomas mentioned the incident with Macbeth. Not actually, anyway. There was only that one situation when Jefferson said ‘you are like Macbeth’ when Hamilton was sitting in the bathroom for too long.

Oh, and also the one when he threw something like ‘I’m going to kill you in your sleep, like Macbeth did with Duncan’, which, as Hamilton remarked, was weirdly specific, but okay.

Anyway, the point was, Alexander was dying inside, because of that. He kept thinking about Thomas in every single free moment and he just couldn’t stop. He also started to actually make kind of a connection between him and Macbeth and Jefferson and Lady Ma… never mind.

The point was that he tried briefly to convince himself that it had to be because he started to despise him so much more, but it only worked until he saw him and started to stare at his butt.

So, when one morning, after a particularly frustrating attempt of trying to talk about… well… something? Hamilton wasn’t actually even sure what he wanted to talk about with Thomas, he just wanted to let him know. Somehow. That he… liked him? Anyway, when Alexander met Lafayette in the middle of his way to the literature history class, he told him everything right away.

His friend was looking at him, truly shocked and totally baffled for the whole time, but when Hamilton started to tell him about all his feelings, he interrupted him firmly and said.

“You should tell him.” He stated and Alexander choked on his own saliva.

“Just tell him?” He shook his head. “Tell him what? I don’t even know what to tell him!” The Carribean shouted frustrated.

Lafayette frowned at that, but only shrugged and said.

“Tell him the truth, mon ami.” He suggested and Hamilton snorted. “That you like him.” He tried to convince him, but the other man only rolled his eyes.

“That I like him.” He shook his head. “And what if he doesn’t like me? Then I will feel awkward every single time he walks into the room, which would be all the time, cause we live together!” The last words Hamilton said way too loud and even through the mask that he had on his mouth and nose, it was audible on the whole corridor.

Laf frowned, trying to protect his eardrums, but all he said was.

“He slept on your lap, mon ami.” He argued, trying to stop the sly smile that was creeping on his lips. “That’s not something he would do if he didn’t like you.”

“But he was tired and…” Argued Hamilton back, but Lafayette quickly interrupted him.

“No.” He said. “I know Thomas since we were kids and as much as I’m surprised that you two would like each other, I know that he doesn’t do things, when he doesn’t mean them.” He explained.

“Listen, Laf I don’t even know how to start.” Said Hamilton and Lafayette patted his back.

“You can start by telling him that you’d like to invite him to some kind of restaurant.” He proposed smiling slightly. 

***

“But how do I know what he likes?” Thomas answered confused, looking at Lafayette with a desperate expression and trying to ignore his cousin’s weird grin. 

He was so overwhelmed by everything that he felt towards Alexander during the last few days and from the other side he completely didn’t know how to express that. He tried to slightly refer to Macbeth, in hope that Hamilton would get the clue, but the other man seemed totally oblivious to everything that Thomas said.

What’s more he didn’t even seem affectionate at all, he just stared at Thomas from time to time. So, when the southerner met Lafayette on the way back from his fashion history class with Mr Massiv, he couldn’t help but tell him everything that happened and ask him for advice.

“You can just ask him what he likes.” Suggested Lafayette, his smile growing even bigger. Jefferson huffed, unsatisfied.

“But won’t that be weird? I mean, as I said, if he doesn’t like me, then…” But before he could finish Laf put a hand on his arm and, looking him straight into the eyes, said.

“He likes you.” Decided the French. “I promise you, he likes you.” He said, his voice so confident that for a moment Thomas actually believed him, but then he quickly came back to earth.

“How would you know?” He shook his head. “It’s not like he told you.” He commented and Laf shrugged.

“It’s just… visible.” He smiled at Jefferson. “You should tell him now.” He suggested. 

“Now?” Thomas laughed under his breath, trying not to sound too panicked. “Do you think I have nerves made out of steel? I’ve just finished fashion history class and you want me to ask Hamilton out now?” He shook his head, but Lafayette only took a deep breath and said.

“You don’t have to.” He promised, a bit more serious than a moment ago. “But trust me. The longer you’ll wait the worse it’ll be.” He declared, on which Thomas finally sighed and shrugged and then sighed again.

Maybe Laf was right after all. Maybe it was better to just get it over with, no matter how it was going to end up.

So Jefferson nodded his head, and said.

“Okay. I’ll try, but… I don’t know how it’s gonna work out.” He said and after that he and Lafayette said their goodbyes and parted ways.

Thomas went down the corridor, straight to his room and through the whole way he felt anxious. He couldn’t really put anything sensible together in his mind and he really wasn’t sure if Hamilton was even going to be inside of their room.

Maybe he wouldn’t be and Jefferson would be able to avoid that moment for a little longer while?

He shook his head and only then noticed that he almost skipped the door to his own room. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and without waiting any longer, opened the door.

For a second he thought that he was right and that Hamilton wasn’t inside, but before he got to sigh with relief, he heard.

“Hi.” Coming from behind the door. Thomas closed them quickly and saw Alexander standing next to the counter top and mixing macaroni and cheese in a bowl. “I made a bit too much, you want some?” He asked and Jefferson nodded automatically, barely noticing what he was just told.

“Listen, I actually wanted to tell you something.” He declared, swallowing. He was actually so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he hardly noticed that Hamilton had already got two plates ready, he bought wine and even got two glasses.

“Oh, me too.” Alexander smiled, putting the bowl away. “But you can go first.” He offered generously and Thomas shook his head, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding looking at Hamilton,

“No, you go on.” He said. “It’s not important.” He added quickly and Alexander laughed nervously.

“Oh, mine neither, I’m sure yours is more interesting.” He sighed loudly and Thomas stepped from one leg to another.

“Well, I just wanted to ya know… ehm, invite you to some festive restaurant and... have a nice dinner, but you’ve already made mac and cheese, so…” He scratched his head and Hamilton raised his eyebrows on that.

“Oh, well I mean, you know, it was actually only an appetizer, in fact I wanted to invite you somewhere fancy as well.” He suggested and Thomas finally glanced at him, suddenly feeling a tiny bit more confident than a moment ago.

He swallowed and before he got to decide against it, said.

“Did ya? Well, I bet you didn’t plan to go to the theater afterwards.” He said, hoping that the risk that he just took was going to pay off.

Alexander took a step in Thomas’s side and said, also seemingly more confident.

“No, but that’s only because I’ve got us entrance to the most fancy club in town.” He declared and Jefferson could feel a few butterflies in his stomach, as he managed to answer.

“I’m sure you did, but do you have tickets for the Beyonce concert next week?” He teased him, making a step closer as well.

“I didn't know there was a Beyonce concert next week, but I’ve managed to arrange a private meeting with Jeff Goldblum and Taika Waititi in two weeks.” Alexander declared with a shine of mischief in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t have that, but I do have a whole free day tomorrow and I’m all yours.” The last words Thomas almost whispered and he was sure that Alexander got a tiny bit red when he heard them.

“And I have...” Hamilton said suddenly and huffed, smiling slyly. “...I have this.” Said Alexander and before Thomas could do or say anything, Hamilton kissed him passionately pinning him to the wall and standing up on his toes to reach his ex-enemy's lips. 

He was squeezing Thomas’s coat tight in his hands and the southerner didn’t waste much time, before kissing Alexander back and letting his hands wander down to the other man's hips.

Alex moaned softly into the kiss when Thomas pulled him closer, grinding their hips together. Jefferson smiled slightly into the kiss, wanting to be as close to Alexander as possible and to never let go of him.

The shorter man deepened the kiss letting his hands wrap around Jefferson’s neck and tangle into his hair. Thomas could feel that the Caribbean liked it, he ran his finger through them and then pulled them slightly making Jefferson giggle.

Alexander’s body was warm against his and his hands were sending shivers down Thomas’s spine, as the shorter man let his hands wander from his head down his whole body.

Jefferson broke the kiss to take a deep breath and then moved from Alexander's lips and started kissing his jawline, slowly moving towards his neck, making him gasp.

Alexander instinctively tilted his head back breathing heavily as Jefferson was kissing his neck and caressing his waist, back and hips. He took a stronger grip on Thomas's hair, making him moan slightly again.

"We should…" Breathed out Alex, evidently trying to put his thoughts together when Thomas was leaving wet kisses on his neck and slowly getting to his shirt's buttons. "Do that… m-more often…" He gasped when Jefferson kissed the sweet spot on his neck.

And then, the taller man pulled away, letting go of the buttons and leaving Hamilton longing for more, looked down at the shorter man.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather to…" Started Thomas stopping only to take a breath. "... go meet Jeff and Taika?" He teased, his hands now back on Hamilton's waist.

"Only if you know how to actually get a private meeting with them." Said Hamilton, slowly letting go of Thomas's hair and wrapping his hands around the taller man's shoulders instead. 

Jefferson smiled slightly, moving a flock of hair away from Hamilton's face in a surprisingly delicate manner.

"You liar." Commented the southerner silently, but Alexander ignored him.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head on Thomas's chest and the taller one of them, let his chin rest at the tip of Hamilton’s head. He took a deep breath and also closed his eyes, suddenly really happy that he was assigned Alex as a roommate.

Happy even that he met him before in the debate club and happy that he couldn’t fall asleep the other night and that he was too angry and tired to actually think about what he was doing when he agreed for Hamilton to read to him.

He was happy that he could hug Alex and above all he was happy that he could just be there and stand by him, forget all their differences and just… move on.

To the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for any kind of grammatical mistakes or words that sound like they shouldn't be there. English is not my first language and as much as I'm trying to improve it, it's not that perfect. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!


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